Investments 14.12

I looked up into that flawless white face, so intent on the Mark Dart held in it's perfectly formed hand, and kept my scream entirely internal. Several questions rushed through my mind in quick succession: How did Ziz catch that? How did it even know if it was there if it wasn't supposed to be able to see me? Why couldn't it see me know? What the fuck was I going to do now?

I knew my Blindspot Perk, a minor power unto itself, made me invisible to precog, up to and including Contessa and the Endbringer feet away from me. That combined with the fact that Ziz could only see through the means of pre- and post-cognition, which my Blindspot power, fueled by my Abaddon Shard as it was, completely covered, meant I should be completely invisible to it. That should've meant that Ziz wouldn't be able to intercept my shots, not able to see me making them, nor see the effects my actions would cause. However, apparently, that wasn't the case.

Fucking lovely.

The other Mark Darts continued their path far behind her, streaking off to their lunar target, though I wondered if they'd all miss, the only one that'd hit being the one that'd been intercepted. It'd fit Ziz's MO. As she continued to regard my dart with open curiosity, unlike the cold, impersonal facade she normally wore, I took the opportunity to study in her in turn.

I could feel the Marks back home, including the scattered one's I'd left when trying to find a launch platform, so I could leave in a moment if I needed to, but if this attempted moonshot completely failed, I'd still be getting info. My Area Teleportation, however, was severely glitching out, the mental fabric I normally grasped to use it nothing but mist and vapors in my metaphorical hands. Marked Teleportation was the way I was getting out of this, but, thankfully, it seemed more than up to the task, which let me do the arguably idiotic thing I was about to do so.

Opening the eyes of my costume, the air held tight around me maintaining earth-like pressure, I Saw the Simurgh, for what she truly was.

Just like Leviathan, her power didn't exist as the Flames of hosts, but as crystalline tendrils, the centerpoint of an enormous web of Platinum and Light. I couldn't copy her powers, just like Leviathan, as she seemed screened from my attempts without even noticing, but I Knew what this Endbringer could do, and it surprised me.

Pretercognition, encompassing both past and future, was most prominent. It was this power that made up the grand web, keeping track of everything, though the web seemed thinner than I'd seen before. The network had seemingly atrophied as hundreds of thick strands wrapped around the Mark Dart, unable to secure themselves for more than a moment, not anchoring themselves like they had to Herb that first day.

Her Second power was unfettered, uncapped Telekinesis. Her ability was thought to be Manton Limited, like Leviathan's, but that, too, was a lie, a way for the 'psychic' Endbringer to hide its true power.

The others, the six that danced beyond the edge of vision, were much harder to pin down. There was a Tinker power in there, but the specialization seemed to shift as I watched it, from Travel, to Guns, to Cloning, to Heat. Another was a Thinker power, some sort of targeted recall, allowing others to relive memories. That seemed almost positive, though no doubt its use was malignant in nature.

Each one down the chain was harder to pin down. The next one some kind of emotional manipulation, but I had no idea how. The other three, nested into the first five like her wings crisscrossed each other, were completely hidden from sight. If she used them, I'd likely see them clearly, but that was the only way I was going to be able to discern their nature. I wanted to say they'd be weaker than the ones 'above' them, but a Minor power in the right conditions could be better than a Major power was normally.

It was a stark contrast to the other two Endbringers, who only had one power each, focused to insane levels. While said ability was both a sensory power and a manipulation power, Hydrokinesis and water-sense with Leviathan, while Behemoth had his Dynokinesis and ability to detect energy, there was a simplicity to them and the inventive uses they were put to. Ziz's powers, on the other hand, were a hodge-podge of abilities, so many stacked up on each other they were hard to make out in detail and the artistry, if any existed, came from managing so many disparate parts into a cohesive whole, not the creative and novel uses of a limited tool set. Then again, given her primary power was Pretercognition, that might be easier than it looked. I shuddered to think of what would happen if I looked at Scion, but hopefully that wasn't going to be an option for me anytime soon.

I didn't know how she managed her 'scream', wouldn't without seeing her do it. Was it a separate power, or just the use of a pre-existing power in an inventive manner? Given that she could do so silently, and powers had oddly strict limits, I wouldn't put it past her to create her trademark 'scream' with telekinesis, pretending that she needed that highly noticeable signal of power use, instead of needing it as a carrier wave, like Shatterbird.

Similarly, I didn't know how her Tinker, Master, or Thinker powers really worked, and wouldn't until I saw her put it to use. Something that, while likely useful to know, wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to find out anytime soon.

Having gotten everything I could hope for, I prepared to leave, subconsciously backing away from the Endbringer before me.

This was a mistake.

I'd gotten used to the 6th, or maybe 7th sense that Aerokinesis had granted me, feeling the voids in the air directly around me that indicated solid objects let me navigate my surroundings more easily, even if the detail-scale wasn't the best, and it got increasingly less useful the further something was from me. The problem was that, in space, everything was void. As my back brushed against a wing, which had been curled protectively around the Simurgh, and had been trapping me inside, I realized, as Herb might say 'I done goofed.'

The Simurgh's Telekinesis flared around her, agitating the air I held around me into her trademark 'scream', which my own powers dampened.

Ducking under a wing as it swung for me, I hesitated as, underneath the shrill-avian screech, there seemed to be something else, something at the edge of my perception. Hesitating, she screamed again, and I heard it once again.

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.̴ͬ̓ͥ̿̊̄ͨ͆҉̥͉͇͚̺̭͕̳͎͎͘͞ ̵̴̢͈̖̟̻̠͖͎͓͚͓̫̯̺̰̤̜͔ͥ̉̍̈́ͪͮ̈̏̓͂̔̐ͯ̇̄͢.̈ͭ̾ͩͫ̌ͭ̈ͯ̈͂ͮ̎̔ͩ͏̷̳̮͉͓̪̗̱̗̘̀͟ ̰̱̖̩͎̳̠̫ͭͪ͐͑̇̎͌͊͂̃̔̈́̈ͨ̉̂̄̊̽̀͢͠.̧̲̞̮͈͙̮̦̘̠̫̘͈̦̜͓̎ͬ̐̂͛̾͂̄̈́̐̓̀̾̽͐̔̉̋̀͘ ̵̴̛̛̮̹̝̭͔̬̗͈̻͒͂̌ͭ̋̃́̈́̽͡.̢̧̦͙͎̼̿ͤ͑͗ͤ̇ͩ̒ͮ͂̉̄ͮ͛͛̚ ̢̮̥̤͎͕̠͎̮̄ͬ̉̀ͫ̑͊͆ͯ̔ͣ͊̚ͅ.̴̸̛̫̼͚̩̺̞̭̣̩͓̮ͦ̍ͯ̀̿̌͜͞

̵̧̨̨͕̪̲̘͈̠̹̣͎͈͇̘͇͒͐̈́ͯ͆̏̆ͤ̾ͭ͝ͅ.̵̴͓̭͙̥̻̬̬̘̫̭̳̝͈̻̞̟̗̏͆͋ͭ̐͌ͯ̾̇ͯͮ̃̆̂͗ͧ̉ͧ ͗̈̿̌͒ͪ̈́͛ͥͨ҉̶̟͉̲̩̬͔̙͚̲͔͍̪̬̤͠.̰̩̜͌͊̿̈̅ͬ͐͜͟͜ ̡̧̨̥̪͇͈̠̥͇͙̮͈͉̹̤̫̖̽͐ͤͤ̂̄ͫ̓ͪͬͦ̇͋̐ͪ̌͋͜.̽͗ͬ̏ͩ͂ͪͫͤͣ̓̇͂̃ͥ҉̣̥̮͙̜̠̗͙̺̲͙̹̼͓̹͠ ̝͕̟̘͍̜͓̤͇͍̯͚̥̯̆̈́͌́ͣ͗͆ͥ̑̑ͩ́ͥ̂̈́̃͑ͨ̀̚͟͜͝.̧̛̘̬͙̲̭͖̰̳̤̗̘̭̬̖̾ͯ͛͒ͬͪͥ̉̃͑ͤͣ̅͐̑̓ͮ̆͌͜͢ ̨̛̤̠̺̦̹̯̙̥̟̟̯̲̖͖̻͎͕ͤ̋ͮ̒̇̐̄ͨ͡ͅ.͑ͧ́̌ͫ̈̈́ͪͨ̿ͫͭ͐͐̾ͮ͆ͪ̚҉̢͚̹͖̟̣͎͚͈

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Memorizing the pattern with Acoustokinesis, to study again when I wasn't face-to-tits with a debatably living engine of destruction, I focused on a Mark, not back at Eclipse, but in sub-Saharan Africa, where I'd ended up when I'd reached a bit too far last night with Area Teleportation a few days ago. With the destination in mind, I decided a parting shot was needed. Lashing out with both hands, I grasped a handful of the long flight feathers of the wing directly above me in each and spent both crystalline shields to enhance my strength, pulling them free.

The look of shocked anger on her face was priceless as she shrieked again, and I disappeared.

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.̛̖̱͇̮͙̟͚̲͖̼̝̥̣͎͑̈́̅͛̓̂͐͛̓͛ͫͯ͡ ̵͕͔̞͎̦̥̜͉̖̤͚̺̿̃̏̅̐́͂̕.̢̳̹͙̭̭͈͈̎̓ͦ̍̿ͨ́͢ ̷̴̳̹̻̞̝̦̣͚͇̭̪̘̟̬̣̮ͪ͛̇ͭ̓͢͡.̋͆ͩͧͪ̽͆ͨ̍ͮ̍̀͌͑̒ͯ́̚͟͠͏̛̱͙͚̩̼͎̰͉̤͖̺͎̦ͅ ͦ̉͒̊͌̐ͧ̐̍̿ͭ̋ͦ̊͛́̌҉̲̦̙̗̮̩͙͕̪̰̜́.̢͖̟̼͔ͥ̋̇̌̓͗ͪ̑͜͞ ̷̷͕̥̝̬̩̭̻͇̝̺̜̰̮̩͚̯̑ͫ̈́̈́̅ͨ̃̍̌͊̉̂ͦ͑͘͟͢.̸̜̝̦̳̠͇͉̾̇͌͊ͮ̆́̈́ͦ̒ͪ̿̒͛͛͛͝ ̶̞̠̭̮̱͈̗̮̱̖̙̫ͮ̌͆ͩͪͣ̀͆̊̔͌̂̾́̌̇̓͛.̷̡̢̥͈̯͙̆ͮͭ̀̉͡ ̶̡̉ͣ̿̂͛̓͝҉̴̞̳̜̰̺͖͚͎͇͎̼̞̱͍͈ͅ.̴̡̮̣̫̱̃́̂̒ͦ͘͢ ̸͚̳̤̘̣̍͑̽ͪͤ͗ͣ͗ͣͩͦ̄͊͢͢.̷̛͚̱̼̗͙̭̩͍̹ͪ̾ͭ̾̊͒̃̃ͅ ̵̧ͨ̽̽ͮ͝͞҉̼̯͈͕͎̘̖̜.̙̗̙̰̞͔̹͍̜̭̣̞͚̝̖̭̗̐̆̇ͣ̍͌̌̈́̄͆ͯ̋̾́͝

̞̺̺̗̪̼̭̙͈͕̞̙̼̹̼̏̽̓̍̿̇͊̐̂̓ͬ͊ͫ̋̚͟Ỷ̐͒ͭͮ̒̆̄̌̃ͨ͏̨̛҉̟̞̺͙̣̦̪̼̬͉͈̲͎͉̣̼͙͠o̴̷̧͖̻̬͇̬̹̙̳̗͕̖̖̗͚̹̲̞ͬͥͩ̓̏̎͠ǘ̡̲̝̣̃̆͌͑́̄͒̒ͨͫ̏̃̂͋̀̚̚͘ͅ ͑̑ͣ̓ͬ̽ͮͩͨͦ̓͛̚̚͠͏̡̪̩̼̦͉͖͉̼͈͚͍̬̻̀ͅAͪͥ͐͌ͧ̀͛̑̅͐ͯ̒ͦͯͧͤ͏̤̱̩͓̻͎͢͜ͅs͖͈̬̰̗̩̘̪̥̳͖̾͐̌̈̉̓̉͆̈̑̔ͣ̽͂́͠s̴̸̤̞̬̲̠̲͎̲̰̤̹ͭͨ͆̓ͭͭ̐ͦͅh̐͂ͯ̈́̒̔̐͒͌̒̊͏̶͉̺̠̻̲̮̥̹̰̟͙̳̺̘̞͈̀ó͇̮͙͕͚͙̲̭͍̘̗͂̆ͩͧ͐͐̈́̈͋̆́̎͢͡͡-̵̓͂ͯ̊̀҉̗̭̙̭͍͕͓̟

̟̩̯̹̜̦͉͍̣͎͖̩̪͉̳̣̬͔ͭͯ̑̄̏ͮ̾ͪ̎̇ͩ͐̑̈́̒̾ͣ͛̈̕͝ͅ.̛͇͖͔̞̟ͥ͊̔̌ͩ͑͐̌̊̕͟͝ ̡̼̳͍̻̓̇̈̇̏͝.͔̱̣̭̜͙͋ͦ̔̍͆̈̄̑͌̔͗ͬͫͣ̔̚͘͡ͅ ͥ̉̒̾̋̋̌̃ͨͮ̎ͧ̆̍̌͐̏̃̆͝҉̷͔̜͚̖͔.̳̫̻̮̙̦̦̝̩̔ͨ͛̇͐͟͜͢͡ ̭̻̹͚͎̬̻͓͎͎͚͚͇̻̤̫̏̉̿̔́̚͢͞ͅ.̸̣̤͈̠͓͚̘͓̻̠̻̩̪ͮ̋̅͒͆̔ͦ͌̌̌̽̓̏͗͋͝ ̛̟͕̟͎̠̰͎̞͇̺̮̫͎̼̘̹̏̇̓̓͗̍̎̍ͦͫ̀̾.̴̷̸̢͇͔̗̦̱̗̠̦̹̳̮̱̜͕͖̙̯͋ͬ͊̒̓̎́͟ ̷̷̷̣̱͙̺̬̩̦̬̦͌̋͒̋̒ͭ̏́.̶̧͚͇̩̲͈͍͈̜̰ͧ̈̓̏̐̀ͤ͌͆̓̈́͘ ̶̸̣͍̟̞̙̃͋ͣ̉ͬ͒ͩ̈ͪͣ͗͌̓͒͐.̡̣̥͇̞̩̠̱̣̦̳̜̮͈̥̣̩̰ͫ́̍͛̆ͦ̽̎̃͑͋̀̀ͅ ͣͩ͆͆̋͋͐̑̒͐̇̾ͧ̒̋͌̚҉̫̺̬̻̝̝̤̹̤̙̺͜͟.̵̧͂ͯ̏͗̊̈̎ͫͬ̓̏ͣ́ͫ̈́̎͏̧̮̭̦̘̠̜̫̪̜̻̥̼̲͈̣̠̜̖ ͑́̉ͧ͑̇͐ͬ́̕͠͞҉̻͎̥͙̦͉̲̞.̿̀̐ͦ̓ͬ̓̾̋͏̳͙̞̹̺̦͈͇̱̰̜̟̹̱̞̣̜̬̰͜

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Half a dozen blind jumps later, and chilling out in a random, empty, grassy plain for half an hour convinced me that I'd lost her, assuming she could even have followed me in the first place. The five giant, pure white feathers I held in my hands obviously not serving as beacons. I thought they might have been broken from her web of cognition when I'd claimed them, and it seemed to have worked. I smiled to myself, as these bits of The Simurgh would likely net me a pretty penny, another gain scrounged from that failure.

Another few jumps, just to be careful, that dropped me in the mountains, then different mountains, over a lake, and then back to base, later, I queried Zilla to see who was still awake. Surprisingly, Taylor was asleep, though in the office I'd allocated to her. It was easy enough to drop the Feathers back in my room, collect her, and put her to bed. Amy, however, was still up.

The healer was still at work in the bio-lab Quinn had asked her to move her armor beetle to, as it'd apparently been a very unpleasant surprise for the person who was checking to make sure we'd actually fully activated the labs. It was there I found her, hip-deep in biomass, the girl barely looking up as I came in. "Oh, hi," she commented, obviously distracted.

"It's almost midnight, you should go to bed," I prodded her. "Making progress?"

She waved me away with one hand, the other pressing on the chitin that covered her legs, "Almost done." When I stood, waiting, she paused and glanced up at me, "What?"

"If you're almost done, I can wait," I shrugged, looking forward to my surprise. For some reason this got me an annoyed look and a muttered, "Okay dad," though she did smile a little as she said it. Two minutes later the back of the exoskeleton covering her legs opened outwards and she stepped out, showing she was wearing a pair of shorts underneath. She picked up the biological boots and dropped them off with several other works in progress in a nearby crate, toweling off her feet and putting on sandals, before turning to me with a "What do you want?"

The statement lacked any vitriol, so I played it up, looking hurt as I rested my free hand against my chest, the other still behind my back. "Moi? I'm hurt. I don't just come to you when I want something."

"You usually do," she pointed at, eyes narrowing as she looked at my hidden arm starting to walk around me. "Don't tell me you hurt yourself again!"

"You wound me!" I grinned, backing up slightly and turning so she couldn't see my other hand.

She growled, giving up on trying to get behind me. "I will if you don't tell me what did!" the healer declared.

Smiling, I shook my head. "I'm not injured, I come bearing gifts," I said, flourishing the feather in front of me, the pearlescent plume the size of a longsword held out to her.

Amelia blinked, startled, taking care to look at my hand to make sure it was uninjured, not accepting the offered trophy. "That came from up there?" she asked pointing upwards, obviously indicating Brockton Bay.

"From a certain point of view," I grinned.

Her stare was flat, and unamused. "That means no."

"From a certain point of view," I repeated, grinning wider.

With a long-suffering sigh, she grasped the pure white piece of plumage, freezing as her eyes went distant. "It's crystalline," she muttered to herself. Carefully taking it in both hands, she turned it over and over, finally looking up at me, "Where did you get this?"

I shrugged, crossing my arms as I leaned against the table. "Guess."

Her face screwed up in confused consternation. "Guess?" she echoed. "How am I supposed to guess? I've never seen anything like this. I'd say you got it from The Simurgh, but even you aren't that dumb. . ." She hesitated, looking at me searchingly, paling as she said, "Oh god, it is. Isn't it?"

"Is she able to track her bits and pieces?" I asked, nothing in the research I'd done while waiting had suggested that was true, but I might've missed something. When she looked at me like I was being silly, slowly shaking her head, I shrugged, "Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that to get this," she said, waving the feather at me, "You'd have to get within striking distance of The Simurgh!" Looking down at it, she shook her head, "I don't even know how you did that. No one gets that close to her!"

"Ah," I said, "Right. Did I mention that I'm completely immune to Precognition? And that Ziz doesn't actually see with her eyes, but is an incredibly powerful Precog instead? She didn't even know I was there until I bumped into her by accident."

Amelia just stared at me. "You. . . you. . . how do you bump into The Simurgh by accident!?"

I shrugged, "She intercepted one of my moonshots." That got me a blank look. "Did I not mention I was using a couple of powers, including Mouse Protector's, to go to the moon, to get moon-rocks, to sell to Toybox? Because I am. Taylor helped me crunch the numbers, and we used a railgun made with Kaiser's, Ballistic's, and Skidmark's powers"

The laugh I got from Amelia wasn't quite sane. "I'm dreaming," she decided, with dawning realization. "I was working too long, and I fell asleep, and I dreamed about you, again, and you being absolutely ridiculous, again, and I'll wake up in bed, or buried in my armor, and this will all be nothing but the random firings of my fucked up neurons. Here," she said, offering me the feather, "take it back. I'm going to go to bed. So I can wake up."

Trying not to laugh I waved her off. "I said it was a gift, and I meant it. It's yours Amelia, but maybe you should go to bed."

"Definitely fucking dreaming," she told herself, walking for the door, not looking back. "'Have a piece of an Endbringer in pristine condition worth a couple million dollars Amelia'," she said, in a bad imitation of my voice. "No way this is real."

"I have four others!" I informed her, as she reached the door.

She just flicked me off, "Not helping, Dream Lee!" she shouted back, leaving without another word.

I wondered what she'd do when she woke up with the feather, and had a good laugh.


About four in the morning, I was pleasantly surprised when I felt one of my space-borne Mark Darts hit. Extruding my armor into a single-giant white block, one that would take any blow if Ziz was waiting for me once again, I wrapped myself in air and teleported to the crashed mark.

I saw a vast expanse of white as far as the eye could see, pitted with cracks and with small clouds of dust slowly falling in every direction. In front of me was the Mark Dart, having buried itself in the rock before me, and I smiled with success. Unlocking a hand, I dropped a Mark on the ground next to me, before accelerating up and around the surface of the moon, devoid of any atmosphere. As I put distance between myself and the impact crater, another white shape flew past me at breakneck speed, and I held my breath as The Simurgh darted to the impact zone, a pale hand making a 'come hither' motion. The Mark Dart wrenched itself out of the furrow it'd created, the Mark I'd just left going seemingly unnoticed.

Ziz glared at the metallic object as her Pretercognition wrapped around it, questing crystal tentacles of power finding no purchase on its smooth surface. I left her to her investigations as I flew out over the horizon, leaving her far behind. I paused as my Area Teleportation, which did not like going into space, suddenly snapped into being. I could feel the fabric that power helped me navigate, but it felt. . . smaller. Willing to go with it, I grabbed and spun, finding myself in darkness. Looking up, there was nothing but the starry skies above me, and I nodded to myself, laying a Mark before teleporting several times more, leaving another set of Marks before every jump. I'd need to do this again every few days, until I found a way to supercharge them to last longer, but Taylor and I, with a bit of help from Karen, had done it.

Grinning, I returned home, sending an email off to Quin, and drifted off to sleep, focusing back on the Endbringer fight. I caught the section I wanted, where Projectile Protections showed up, though I started a good five minutes beforehand. Once again, when I caught sight of something else, in this case the short range teleportation power as I wondered how it differed from Area Teleportation, my thoughts on it redirected my memory to when I'd observed Strider as he'd brought people to the fight, before snapping back to the main memory.

It was obvious that my thoughts controlled the process, but I didn't know if it was a keyword based, as much as thoughts could have words, or emotion based, or maybe topic based? I was really just shooting in the dark here, but the fact that it was thought-based was definite progress. The familiar sound of pounding intruded on my recollection of the fight, every iteration of it oddly lessening the impact as, while I could still feel what I felt then, the sameness of it and the ability to notice ancillary details helped make it less real, somehow.

Rousting myself, I opened it to find a wide-eyed Amelia, hair a mess, clutching her feather. "Um, hello?" I greeted. "Are you okay!"

"Last night wasn't a dream!?" she demanded, on the edge of panic.

Raising an eyebrow, not having expected such an extreme reaction. "No."

"So you. . ." she trailed off.

"Ran into the Simurgh on the way to the moon and stole a few feathers," I nodded.

"And you gave. . ." she replied.

"You one?" I nodded again. "I grabbed five, and I figured you'd like to look over a bit of Endbringer physiology. The fact that they're worth so much is secondary to that, and wasn't even a factor."

Her eyes widened, her breath picking up. "Then we. . ."

"Went our separate ways, you convinced that this was a dream, and I thinking that was absolutely hilarious," I smiled teasingly.

"Then you. . ." she said, before blinking. "Wait, what?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. "You left, saying you were going to go to bed so you could wake up. What do you think happened?"

Amelia turned beet red, holding onto the feather, "So you didn't. . ."

"Didn't what?" I asked. "Did you think I-"

"Nothing!" she interrupted, turning on her heel and stiffly marching away. "Nothing happed!" she proclaimed.

Shaking my head, I went back inside, taking a quick shower, dropping one of the Feathers off at Quinn's office, his assistant, a young Asian man, carefully handling it, as if he could shatter the steel-hard feather by accident. After a quick brunch, I mentally went over my to-do lists. I had a new set of Anomalies to clear, but that could wait until tonight.

Want to know who I haven't heard from? I thought, Faultline. With Brockton Bay no longer a thing, I hadn't heard anything from the parahuman mercenaries. It was easy enough to give them a call.

"Faultline's crew," a familiar voice answered. "Capes for hire. What'd'ya need?"

"Hey Newter," I greeted, attracting some glances from those nearby in the cafeteria. Getting up and walking out, I continued. "Is Faultline available to talk? I've got some time and was wondering if she was available."

She was, in fact available, and I was given an address in New Jersey, telling her I'd be there in an hour. Taylor was busy, as was Karen, so I went down on my own, after a quick explanation to Quinn about how I'd come across the Feathers. After convincing him that, yes, it was an accident and one I'd like to not repeat, he'd just informed me that selling even three of them would put us comfortably in the black for the next several months, at least, accelerating the timetable he'd set up for bringing Eclipse up to readiness. Endbringer materials were very hard to get a hold of, Simurgh more than the others, and effectively undamaged feathers were unheard of.

When I'd suggested possibly looking into getting more, I'd been given a very firm no. As anymore and the source might be considered tainted, a one-off windfall being very different than a repeated supplier, whose extended presence near the psychic Endbringer would kill any future business plans for fear of them being a Ziz bomb.

Out on my own, using my link to Newter's costume as a guide, it was fairly easy, making smaller and smaller jumps until I ended up in Paterson. Following the directions, once my phone realized where I was, I ended up in front of a hole in the wall place, a serious step down from the larger nightclub that Palanquin had been.

As I approached 'Lectica', the door opened, the Newter's orange face, but now red hair, lighting up as he saw me. "V-man! Come on in!"

Clapping a hand across my back, he led me inside, the interior very much under construction. "I thought ya might've bit it when Leviathan hit," he said, "Glad ya didn't. Come on, boss-lady wants to talk to you!"

Letting myself be directed to the back, a large desk was set up with leather chairs, the room paneled with exquisite marble that looked completely out of place with the front. Faultline, in full armor, was waiting for me, welder-style mask pushed up to reveal her Asiatic features. "You're back," she commented as I sat down. "Why."

I shrugged, "Tying up loose ends." As she stiffened, I blinked, playing back what I'd just said. "Not that way," I added. "Sorry, I've been busy. Following up on contacts, is what I really mean," I explained. "My team is shifting priorities, and that's taking a lot of work."

"And you want to hire us?" Faultline asked, not fully relaxing.

"I want to recruit you, so, kinda?" I pseudo-asked, holding up a questioning hand. "I fig-"

"No."

I paused, not really sure I'd heard right. Suddenly wary, I connected to the insect life still in the building, and got to work scouting and tagging, while I smiled in a confused but genial way, "Um. . . why? I haven't even given my pitch yet."

"You work with Cauldron," she stated, eyes flickering around the room as she said so, marginally relaxing.

"I mean, kinda?" I repeated. "Break does some contract for them, like I said, but they're dicks."

"We know," Newter added from behind me. "Had a visit from one of them. Kicked our fuckin' asses. Like, it wasn't even close, and I'm supposed to be the slippery one."

Contessa? "Pale woman, dark hair, business suit, and Fedora?" I asked. At Faultline's tight nod, I nodded back. "Yeah, high level Precogs are a bitch to fight without a hard-counter. It's very much a 'if they can win, they will' thing, where if they can't win they won't attack in the first place. I assume she gave some version of 'go public and you all die?'" At Faultline's second, angrier, narrow eyed nod, I sighed. "I did warn you guys."

"She shot Gregor," Faultline informed me.

"Did he survive?" I asked in turn. When she nodded, I opened my hands in a 'what can you do gesture'. "Then she didn't mean to kill him. Like I said, high-level Precog. Not sure why this means you won't work for me, though."

Newter slid into a chair that wasn't there a moment ago, though it had formed out of my line of sight, and I realized what was going on. This room was created with Labyrinth's power, and I wondered how much of a trap it was. Were they going to sell me out to Cauldron, in exchange for a trip home? Without letting it show, I focused on a Mark I'd left outside. I liked these people, but if they turned on me, they knew so much I'd need to kill them.

"Dude, we don't want to have anything to do with those assholes," the salamander-man spat. "And, don't get me wrong, you've done us a solid, but if you work for them, even a bit, then that'd me we'd work for them, and I'm not fuckin' doin' that."

"Not how I'd put it, but that's our reason. We have enough money we can figure out our next plan of action," Faultline added. "One that has nothing to do with them." She was tense, they both were tense, but I wasn't sure why.

Nodding, I agreed, "I can understand that. I won't make you guys do anything you don't want to." They both relaxed, and someone dropped down through the seemingly solid ceiling, who I promptly pinned to the wall with hardened air as I rose, my gun already coming out.

"Dude, stop!" Netwer said, leaping between me and my target. "She's with us!"

Staring at the woman, the Pale Green and Grey Aura around her oscillated, reaching out for my weapon. Not needing it to kill her if I needed to, I watched the Micro-Telekinesis mess with the powder, causing it to burn unevenly when fired, as her Momentary Clairvoyance tried to stick to me, sliding right off. Her Minor Blindspot hung around her like a shroud, my own powers piercing it easily, as it was really meant to stop Precogs. None of her powers, however, helped her as I'd blasted her backwards against the wall, hardening the air into shackles around her neck waist, wrists, and ankles.

The four-leaf clover on the middle of her skintight black body suit, which had an impressive array of loaded holsters, jogged my memory. "Shamrock, I presume?"

Before I could answer, the walls shifted, large statues with larger weapons starting to form. Labyrinth, who several insects had located in the next room over, suddenly found it very hard to breathe, the air pressure dropping around her, and fell over, the walls shimmering until they vanished, leaving us in another unfinished room, the fine marbling giving way to wood and plaster. The richly appointed desk smoothed back into a fold-out table, the leather seats melting out to metal and plastic folding chairs.

Letting Labyrinth breathe, I took a deep breath, staring at Faultline. "Is Spitfire going to try next, because I swear to god, if she doesn't stop hiding in the doorway, I will burn this place down with you all in it."

The woman in questioned edged into the room, hands up. "We don't want any trouble."

"Which is why you had your pet precog drop in, armed to the teeth, then set your Shaker on me, after directing me into the center of her power. If Gregor wasn't actually in bed," I stated, pointing through the wall to where he rested, asleep, "I might've already torched this place. Now, since you're not joining me, which is perfectly fine," I stressed, "but decided to attack me instead, I think a fucking explanation is in order."

"She wasn't comin' after you, duded. Honest!" Newter insisted. "She just does that!"

"Drop in on visiting capes like she's about to attack them?" I asked dryly.

He winced. "I mean, yeah?" At my incredulous look, he explained, "She jumps in, maybe someone shoots at her, she dodges, and then it's all like 'you can't hurt me, you better talk'."

"Which she wasn't supposed to do," Faultline added stiffly, angry, but not at me.

"Sorry!" the pinned fighter added.

I thought about it, then considered the group. Unless Faultline cut my armor off, which I didn't think was physically possible, or Labyrinth did something that bypassed entirely, which was equally unlikely, there was a very good possibility that no one here could actually hurt me. And, even if they tried, I'd just teleport out and blast their building with Light until it was a smoking crater.

Letting go of Shamrock, I sighed, moving back to sit down on the folding chair. Slowly, the floor under Labyrinth changed, those changes slowly moving back to encompass the back rooms once more. "So," I said, my good humor gone. "You guys seemed ready to jump me. Fucking why."

Faultline glanced towards Newter, who shrugged. "You're Cauldron, and, um, we were worried they were back for round two."

That didn't make sense until. . . "You beat Contessa, or at least forced her to run," I stated, turning to look at Shamrock. "You did, specifically."

"How'd y-" the woman started to say, but Faultline cut her off.

"Yes. Then we get a call from you not even two days later," the group's leader stated levelly. "It was suspicious, as was your ability to get here so fast."

"I'm working with a Tinker group," I said, shaking my head. "They have a teleport device I'm testing for them. Limited use, but effective. Same ones that built your armor," I told Newter. "I had them not pull the plug on it, but after this bullshit, I'll tell them to shut it down"

Ignoring the teenager's "Aw man," Faultline stared at me. "So you aren't trying to force us to work for you?"

I rolled my eyes, "No. Me and mine are working to try to retake Brockton Bay, and we could use the help."

"Wait, that was you?" Newter asked excitedly. At my curious look he ran out the door, returning a moment later with his phone. Queuing up a video, you could barely make out the ruins of Brockton Bay at dawn, a large figure, though far enough away to be small, lumbering out of a sinkhole, only for a beam of golden light to pierce it, half-hidden by the buildings in-between, and rising up into the sky.

I winced, grateful that I was hidden from sight of the camera. "Yeah. While at the upper end of what I've been fighting lately, it's been less arresting criminals and more slaying monsters lately. The big stuff, like that, I'll still take, but the smaller things I could use some help with."

"Then the answer is absolutely not," Faultline stated. "We do jobs, heroic and otherwise. We aren't soldiers."

"You're Parahumans," I replied flatly. "But fair enough. Oh, and if you're not going to do 'jobs' for Cauldron, that includes the entirety of the PRT, as they've got their claws deep into it. While Miss 'Lucky' might've been the trump-card you had against Contessa, if you really piss them off, I very much doubt any of you are ready to throw-down with Alexandria. I might be able to, but I'd rather not find out anytime soon."

I got up, shaking my head, and tossing my card on Faultline's desk. "If you change your mind, here's my number. We pay well, work to help people without that 'ends justify the means' bullshit of Eidolon's, and we take care of our then, I hope you find the peace you seek, but this shitshow's gonna get worse before it gets better."

Taking out my phone, I turned it on and brought it up to my ear as I focused on a Mark back at Eclipse. "I'm done, take me back," I instructed to no one at all, teleporting away a moment later.

As I was putting my phone away, it rang. I stopped, staring at it as the opening notes of 'Back to the Future' played. A ringtone I'd programmed in, but never heard used. Right, sure, because this day was already going so well. I answered it.

"Hey Dad, long time no see. Aren't the parents the ones that are supposed to harass their kids into calling?" I asked, only halfway joking. "Glad you survived the fight, Charlie and I did too, in case you were wondering."

"We can talk later," he replied, tone deadly serious. "If you don't move soon, Brockton Bay is going to be destroyed in seven hours."

"In case you haven't noticed, from wherever the fuck you ran to, it already is," I observed. "We've been trying to fix it, and neither of us have heard shit from you, father."

"Cute," he stated without humor. "I don't mean wrecked, I mean gone. If you and Charlie don't act, they're going to nuke the city, and it isn't going to help."